


Unleashed the Dogs of War

by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)



Series: Let The Spectrum In [6]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 5 Things, Gen, Paintball, Shiro (Voltron)-centric, Strong Language, five things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-23 02:23:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8310106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticReactions/pseuds/BossToaster
Summary: 5 times Shiro lost his temper.Updates on Mondays.  Reading the previous in the series is recommended but not necessarily required.





	1. These Violent Delights

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt from the Kink Meme, but it ended up folded into Spectrum

This had all gone to hell so fast.

Part of it was Shiro’s fault. He’d intentionally got them up earlier than normal, even just two days after a long mission, because he and Allura had been discussing readiness at any hour. So everyone had started the training bleary and short tempered. And, in what wasn’t Shiro’s brightest moment, he’d made the training based on dodging in the dark with obstacles. Which wasn’t helping the tired thing at all, and had given every single one of them a new collection of bruises as they inevitably tripped over everything in their path.

So, frankly, if everyone was in a poor mood to begin with, Shiro could take responsibility for that.

What wasn’t acceptable was the way everyone reacted to it.

Shiro sighed as he heard the unpleasant crack of someone’s weapon hitting someone else, followed by a louder thump of someone falling over. “ _Dammit_ , Hunk,” Keith groaned, holding his head. “Watch that thing.”

“Sorry!” Hunk replied, then he crashed to the ground as well, avoiding fire from one of the castle’s drones. “I didn’t know you were there. You have to stay out of my range, dude, this thing is heavy. I can’t stop it on a dime, you know!”

Keith’s teeth showed from his scowl, bright in the darkness. “Fine, sorry for my head being in your way.”

Hunk groaned. “Dude, c’mon.” He got himself back up to his feet and planted himself, back facing Keith. Which was about as cold as Hunk could be without totally disrupting the mission.

Pidge and Lance didn’t seem to have that much foresight.

“Get out of my shot!” Lance hissed, for what had to have been the fifth time in less than ten minutes.

“Stop aiming at me!” Pidge shot back, just as aggrieved. “I can’t help being in your shot when they’re _firing on us_.”

Maybe he should have just ended it. But they were already nearing the end of the exercise, and despite the frayed tempers, they could still finish this successfully. Then he could give them all time to cool off before lunch.

“Keith, Pidge,” Shiro called. “We’re going to start on the left and clear up the drones that are still standing. Hunk and Lance, fire toward the left side and make your way toward us. Focus on cover fire, but if you have a good shot, take it.”

Pidge nodded gratefully, getting out of Lance’s range with a look of disgust. He glared back, teeth set angrily, and Shiro wasn’t about to correct either of them. The problem wasn’t that either of them were being ineffective, because they were both doing fine. The problem was that everyone was in each other’s way and that no one was working in tandem, and it was collapsing into chaos.

Before Pidge could even settle next to Shiro, Keith planted his foot on one of the rocks and launched himself forward with a cry, sword at the ready.

Goddammit. “Keith!” Shiro barked, but he had no choice but to dash after with a quietly grumbling Pidge. “Cover fire, go!”

There was a delay from Hunk and Lance because they’d been adjusting themselves and weren’t ready to switch yet, by which time Keith had taken out a drone. But now the rest of the horde were moving, the bulk of them to one side shifting over closer to fire on the straggler, meaning Hunk and Lance had to fire dangerously close to them.

And maybe that was another moment he should have called it off, but they’d done worse in the field. They could make this work.

Shiro smacked away one of the drones, and ducked as Pidge threw another one over his head to crash into a third. He shot her a unhappy look for the lack of warning, but she was already focusing on the next, and he had bigger fish to fry. “Oh my _mark_ , Keith,” he managed, keeping most of the snap out of his voice. Or, at least some.

“You didn’t say that,” Keith replied, shooting him a defensive look. Which Shiro responded with an incredulous one of his own, because when was that not the case?

The crackle of electricity beside them made Shiro focus again. “We’ll talk.” And he could just feel Keith stiffening at the cool tone, no doubt reminded of all the instructors he’d rebelled against before, but Shiro just didn’t have time to coach it in nicer language. “Finish this now.”

Nodding, Keith shoved past, slicing at a drone and sliding on his knees under the fire of another. But that put him into the bulk, just to the side of where the shots were being focused.

And surrounded by drones.

Pidge sped in after him, since she was closer than Shiro had been, and she used the crackling line of her bayard to scatter them somewhat, distracting them from all firing on Keith. And he jumped back, weapon at the ready, just as another volley was loosed. To dodge the shots, Keith spun out of the way.

Right into Pidge. With his bayard out in front of him.

Keith reverted it back, but not before he scored a good cut across Pidge’s cheek. Reaching up, her eyes wide, she touched the spot, and her fingers came away with blood. Then, as Keith held up his hands, no doubt to apologize, she thrust her own bayard forward and shocked him right back.

And that was when Shiro finally ended the training.

The lights came on and the drones deactivated, just as Keith fell to the ground with a cry. Pidge was still staring at him, eyes wild like she was considering doing it again, until Shiro’s hand fell on her shoulder and pulled her away, both to prevent that and to look at the cut.

“Hey! What is _with _hitting me today?” Keith asked, sitting up and looking ruffled and dirty. He was clutching at where Pidge had hit his arm, the skin under his fingers red.__

__Trotting over, Lance reverted his own bayard. “C’mon, Pidge has hit me with that before, and it was only _funny_ then, apparently. You’ll live.”_ _

__Keith bristled. “She should have shocked you two instead, since you were the ones who shot at me!”_ _

__Scowling, Hunk gestured with his own bayard. “‘Cause you jumped in without looking _again_. Don’t blame us!”_ _

__“Enough,” Shiro snapped, louder than he’d meant to as he stared over Pidge’s head at all of them._ _

__Snorting, Pidge glanced around, eyes still too bright. “Yeah, I should just shock all of you a few times.”_ _

__Frustration welled up, sudden and heavy. “ **Enough**.”_ _

__The bellow was enough to make all of them freeze, stunned. Shiro had snapped, he’d cursed, he’d been openly frustrated. But he’d never yelled at them like that. Had always restrained himself, even at the worst._ _

__But, dammit, Shiro was tired and bruised and annoyed too. And he could take it and be professional, but he couldn’t deal with their constant fucking bickering on top of it. Not right now._ _

__“Keith, Pidge. Go have Coran look at you. If you can’t find him, ask Matt. He knows what supplies are what, now.” He turned away, looking over the room, jaw working as he fought to keep his temper, and basically lost. “Then all of you clean off and do... something. I don’t care what.”_ _

__Dead, uncomfortable silence answered him. With the lights on and training over, their earlier behavior might be settling on them. At least, Shiro could dream. “Um,” Hunk murmured, finally breaking the uncomfortable lack of response. “Do you want help cleaning up?”_ _

__“No. Frankly, I don’t want to see any of you until tomorrow. I’ll say something I’ll regret. So go.” Then he glanced back at them, shoulders tight. “And if I hear _any one of you_ arguing or bickering or blaming anyone, the perpetrator won’t see the inside of a lion for a month, even if the universe burns to the ground in the meantime. Understood?”_ _

__Wide-eyed, they shared a glance. “Yes, sir,” they chorused, all quiet and visibly uncomfortable._ _

__Shiro closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Just go. Tomorrow will be something different.” Because there was clearly something that needed to be worked on first. And he didn’t trust them with this exercise again, at the moment._ _

__Pidge opened her mouth, but it must have aggravated the cut, because she just winced and then stopped. Finally, they left, silent and with their tails tucked between their legs._ _

__Once the doors were closed behind them, Shiro let out a long series of curses, mostly in Galra. At least, he thought so. Wasn’t like he could be sure._ _

__Then he got to work cleaning up and thinking up something for tomorrow._ _

__***_ _

__Later, Shiro tracked down Sam. Because right now, he was pretty sure Sam was the safest person to be around._ _

__“Did you ever want to kill me and Matt?” He asked, by way of hello._ _

__Glancing up from his reading, Sam stared over his glasses at Shiro. “Yes. Most especially when you were arguing over singing.”_ _

__“In my defense, Matt started it by doing the singing when he knew it annoyed me.” Shiro settled down next to Sam’s chair and leaned against the side. “How did you stop yourself?”_ _

__Sam hummed thoughtfully, putting his pad to the side. “Well, I would try to spend some time away and cool my temper. Focus on something else. There were always mission details to go over and keep track of, after all.” His lips quirked up. “But that always seemed to be a load of crap when I actually tried it. Never actually worked.’_ _

__Eyes wide, Shiro stared up at him. “Really? You were always so patient with us. I thought you’d figured out some kind of zen method.”_ _

__That made Sam burst into laughter, leaning over the side of his seat to look down at Shiro. “Well, not like that. I had a secret trick.” He grinned. “I brought a toy gun with me on the ship. One of those sticky dart ones. And I’d shoot the walls until I felt better.”_ _

__Mouth open, Shiro goggled up at him. All this time, he’d just assumed Sam had some miraculous well of patience, considering he and Matt had been so young and headstrong. Okay, no, they’d be obnoxious. He’d tried to base himself off that image of Sam as much as possible with the other paladins, channeling his apparent ability to be wise, clever and calm in all situations without any effort._ _

__That Sam had such a human way of venting his temper was both a relief and a kick in the teeth._ _

__Hand over his mouth, Sam shook his head as he tried to stifle his laughter. “You look like I kicked your dog, Takashi.”_ _

__“Just knocked over my idol,” Shiro murmured back, finally closing his mouth. “I think it’s only cracked, at least.”_ _

__Sam chuckled again. “Glad to be of service.”_ _

__Shiro let out a slow breath. Honestly, the hardest part about accepting this was that Shiro felt like an idiot for not realizing the father of Pidge and Matt probably had some tricks up his sleeve. “Well, at least I’m just glad I’m not as bad at this as I thought. I had no idea how you kept yourself from shoving us out an airlock.”_ _

__“Well, it’s an old habit of mine. When I was about your age I picked up paintball, and there is an old, small range in our backyard at home.” Sam’s smile was a little sad and distant as he remembered. “When a day was too much, I’d get my old rifle and fire on a target for a little while. And you didn’t hear it from me, but sometimes that target had a picture of a colleague on it.”_ _

__Shiro’s fingers tightened against his pants, bunching the fabric. “When we get back, you’ll have to show me.”_ _

__That made Sam smile, if sadly. “Sounds like a plan. You can help me take on Katie. Matt was never interested except in making as much of a mess as possible, but Katie was devastating with her pistol. Some back up would help.”_ _

__“That makes perfect sense, actually. And that would...” Shiro trailed off suddenly. “Oh. Paintball. That... I think that’s... Sam, you’re a _genius_.”_ _

__Brows up, Sam eyed him. “It’s been said, but I usually know why.”_ _

__Shiro shot to his feet. “I need something new to do for training tomorrow for working as a team. And you’re brilliant. I have to go set up.” He started for the door, then turned. “Thank you! And do you know where Matt is?”_ _

__Watching him with undisguised amusement, Sam nodded. “Happy to help. Let me know if you need a hand, but I’ll stay out of it for this one, if I can. Until the dust is settled. Matt was in the pod room with Coran, last I heard.”_ _

__With a last, toothy smile - one that wasn’t particularly nice, but Shiro didn’t have to be so good around Sam - he waved and shot out the door._ _

__***_ _

__The next morning, bright and early, the paladins were summoned by note rather than in person._ _

__Pidge was first to arrive, and she frowned at the empty room. Especially since Shiro had sent them a message, he should be up and set up already. But there wasn’t enough anything out for them to see. Pulling up her pad, she checked the note again, to be sure. It had definitely said the training room. Maybe he had gone to get something? Or he’d gotten pulled away?_ _

__The door opened, and Pidge turned to look, but it was Keith who walked in. “Oh. Hey.” His brow furrowed in confusion as he looked around, and she just gave him a shrug in response. No, she didn’t know either. “Um. How’s your face?”_ _

__“Okay. Coran gave me something and it healed right up.” Pidge touched her cheek, feeling where the slice had been. “How’s your arm?” Keith held it up, proving the redness was gone. “That’s good. Sorry about that.”_ _

__Keith shrugged. “I’m sorry I got you in the first place. We’re all trained to react when hit. No one should have been surprised when you gave back just as good.” He frowned. “I shouldn’t have moved like that when you were so close. We’re lucky it was just a little cut.”_ _

__Yeah, they were, but Pidge just shrugged. “No one could see well. That was the point.”_ _

__The door opened behind Keith, and Lance and Hunk both walked in, having their moment of confusion. He glanced over, then looked back at her. “Still, I shouldn’t have been there in the first place. I’m a little surprised Shiro didn’t tear into me yesterday.”_ _

__“Oh, are we having an apologizing party?” Lance asked. “Cool. Hey, Keith, sorry for almost shooting you.”_ _

__Keith glanced at him, like he wasn’t totally sure Lance wasn’t making a joke. It was a look he wore often, when both possible answers were true. “No problem.”_ _

__Giving a sheepish grin, Hunk nodded. “Yeah, and sorry for... you know.” He mimed swinging his bayard around._ _

__“We were all kind of everywhere,” Lance said, shrugging. “We’re lucky Allura didn’t break into the room and make us want to throw food at her again.” He shuddered. “So, like, agree we all fucked up so we can cut this short?”_ _

__Pidge nodded. “I’m fine with that.” Then she looked around again. “And we can figure out where Shiro is. Think we got the wrong place in the note?”_ _

__Brow furrowed, Hunk considered. “Maybe. Shiro’s never messed up like that before, but he also usually comes and gets us.” His shoulders tensed and he eyed the others. “Think he’s still pissed off?”_ _

__There was a brief, uncomfortable silence. Shiro being out-and-out mad at them was new, and it seemed like none of them actually knew what to do about it. Of all of them, Pidge thought maybe Keith had some experience with it, since he’d known Shiro longest. But he looked just as confused and unhappy._ _

__Pidge had figured they’d just be on their best behavior today and that would fix anything still wrong, but she hadn’t considered that Shiro wouldn’t be there for it._ _

__Then, the lights dimmed. Pidge tensed unhappily. Shiro had said this wasn’t going to be like yesterday, and she was counting on that because yesterday had sucked._ _

__But rather than activate the drones, one wall just lit up like a projector screen. It showed a map of the castle, with most of it grayed out, and some of it outlined in glowing blue. “Good morning, everyone,” Shiro’s voice said, echoed through the room by the intercom. “Your training today is survival. You are not allowed any tools you wouldn’t have on a Galra ship, so pads away. This means you, Pidge.”_ _

__Scowling, Pidge turned off the pad and put it back in her bag, then set it against the wall where it would hopefully be safe._ _

__“You are also not allowed your bayards.” There was a quick pause. “Not because of yesterday, but because you will be using specifically made weapons for this exercise. But at this point, you’ve been captured and unarmed. You’ll have to find them in this section of the castle. So leave yours off for now. Training ends when you get a lethal hit on me with the modified weapons.”_ _

__That made everyone pause and share a look. “We’re fighting you?” Hunk called unhappily._ _

__“Everyone wearing purple is part of the exercise,” Shiro continued on, without answering him. “You will be graded on a points system. A hit to me that’s non-lethal is worth 5 points. Gaining your weapons is worth 15. Defeat of any Galra is worth 15 more, and taking me down is worth 30. You are graded as a team, not on your own, so work together.” There was a slight pause, probably not pointed, but it was long enough for them all to think _this time_. “Each time one of you are hit - anywhere at all - it’s minus two points, and anytime you get recaptured it’s minus ten each.”_ _

__This was starting to sound kind of fun, actually. Pidge glanced at the others, her smile toothy, and got equally interested looks in return. Them versus Shiro. How bad could that be?_ _

__“Stick to the areas shown. And in case you hadn’t realized yet, this is a recording,” Shiro’s voice continued, suddenly airy and just a tad smug. “I suggest running.”_ _

__There was a crack, and Pidge yelped and jumped back as something hit right by her foot._ _

__It was paint. Dark purple paint._ _

__“It’s paintball!” She yelled, already running toward the door. “He’s got a paintball gun!”_ _

__Scrambling, all four of them raced out of the training room, just barely staying ahead of the splashes of paint appearing on the floor and walls. They dove out in a pile, the door slamming shut behind them._ _

__The intercom clicked on again, this time in the hall. “And after the first room, I won’t be aiming to miss.”_ _

__And then silence._ _

__“This is the best punishment ever,” Lance breathed, eyes wide. “Let’s go find ours so we can shoot back. You think it’s color coded, or Shiro just has the black ‘cause he’s the bad guy?”_ _

__Hunk rubbed his cheek, leaving tiny, thin smears of paint where one had exploded right next to his ear. “I hope not. Everything’s gunna look horrible covered in yellow.”_ _

__“We’ll worry about that after we have our weapons,” Keith replied. “Besides, I don’t use a gun. We don’t know if they’re based on our bayards at all.”_ _

__Pidge hoped they were, just to see what a lasso-taser-paintball gun would look like. “He’s right, we should get moving. He has to be nearby.” She hopped up, then offered a hand to Keith, who used to it pull himself to his feet._ _

__Only to be knocked down again when a paintball hit his back, covering it in black._ _

__“Negative two,” Shiro called. Though from where, Pidge had no idea, because she couldn’t see him at all, and his voice echoed strangely._ _

__Without letting go of Keith’s hand, Pidge started to run, Hunk and Lance on either side. Leaning over, Hunk wrapped an arm around Keith as he stumbled, then lifted him bodily and kept sprinting. They ducked down another hallway, then veered again as it was blocked off with a sign in purple with an ‘x’. Outside of the exercise range. Seemed Shiro had been busy this morning._ _

__Once they were actually a safe distance, Hunk set Keith down, he leaned against the wall gratefully. “Thanks,” he murmured, though from his startled look and ruffled hair, he hadn’t enjoyed the journey much._ _

__“No problem,” Hunk responded, breathing heavily. “You’re light.”_ _

__Flapping a hand to interrupt them, Pidge frowned. “Did anyone see where he was shooting from? The hallway was empty.”_ _

__Lance shook his head. “Not totally. There was an air duct.”_ _

__“He’s in the walls?” Hunk groaned. “That’s not terrifying or anything. I think I preferred normal training.”_ _

__“It’ll be fine when we have weapons. Right now we’re sitting ducks. If the idea is to treat this like a Galra ship, where’s the best place to find our weapons?” Keith’s brow furrowed as he thought it over._ _

__This wasn’t one of the areas they usually occupied, so the layout didn’t immediately spring to mind. Pidge wished she’d given the map Shiro showed them a second look-over, because now they didn’t have their own pads to look at it. “Um, there’s a lab down the hall, I think. That’d be a good spot.”_ _

__Hunk nodded slowly. Of all of them, he’d probably looked around the most, on the look-out for more things he could take apart and turn into something useful. When Pidge did that, it tended to be in the main control room or from the lions. “Yeah, and a little beyond that is an old storage room, I think. Either are the best bets, unless Shiro put them in an old bedroom or closet, and then we’d be looking forever.”_ _

__“And that’s not where they’d be on a Galra ship,” Lance agreed. “So let’s do that lab first, then storage room, or head to the storage and double back?”_ _

__“Lab is probably a better bet,” Keith replied, head tilted up as he thought about it. “And it’s too easy to box us into the hall if we go all the way down there. I say we don’t do it if we don’t have to.” He started for the door, then paused, waiting for them._ _

__Following after, Pidge pressed herself to the side of the wall. After a moment, the other three caught on to her plan, and then pressed themselves away from the entrance as well. Then she pressed it open._ _

__Nothing. No volley of shots, no Shiro in the doorway._ _

__It was possible they were a little paranoid, at this point._ _

__With a nod to the others, Pidge took a cautious step forward. Nothing else. Seemed like Shiro hadn’t found them yet. “Okay, we’re clea- ow!”_ _

__Or he had a fucking nasty sense of humor. Pidge scowled as she wiped painted off her shoulder and ducked back in._ _

__“We’re not clear,” Keith told her, voice bland._ _

__“Thanks for the update.”_ _

__Holding up one finger, Hunk tapped his own shoulder, where Pidge had been hit. “He’s ahead of us down the hall, or else it couldn’t have hit you there.”_ _

__“Okay, I can work with that.” Lance fell to the ground, head barely an inch off the floor. Then he scooted forward until he could just barely see down the hall. There were a few seconds, then Lance yelped and pulled. There was purple in his hair, but he seemed to have avoided the hit by being too small a target. “Ugh, this stuff is gunna take forever to wash out. He’s in the grate that goes like... like this.” He made an ‘L’ shape, the tall part facing them, and the bottom flat with the floor. “And so he can’t fire down, since the grate only looks forward down the hall. Once we’re past that, we’re good. And if we go side to side, it’ll be harder for him to aim. He’s firing like me, rather than Hunk. Single point through the bars.”_ _

__Biting on her bottom lip, Pidge nodded slowly. “Since I’m smallest and fast I should go first. He’ll readjust to follow me, and then you guys have a few seconds of clear to try and get through.”_ _

__“Sounds like a plan,” Hunk agreed. “We’ll be a second after you.”_ _

__That decided, Pidge readied herself just in front of the door, feet planted and hands balanced on the floor like a runner before the race. And then, with a last glance back, she darted forward._ _

__Rather than head down, she ran to the wall on the other side, then used that to push off of. Pidge repeated that several times, zig-zagging to make Shiro have to readjust as much as possible. It lasted a few rounds until Shiro managed a shot on her chest, but by that point it was clear he was focusing on her, and the other three came barrelling out._ _

__A moment later, something slammed into her back. It took Pidge a moment to realize it was Keith, who had nearly spear tackled her. It pushed them both forward in a tumble, but then made it clear without any further hits._ _

__Behind them, the other two weren’t so lucky. Pidge heard Hunk grunt unhappily before Lance, half-dragged him past the point, part of his blue shoulder pad splattered in paint. When Pidge looked up, Hunk’s visor was smeared with purple._ _

__“Dude!” Lance called, staring up at the ceiling. “Not cool. The face?”_ _

__“Sorry,” Shiro replied from his perch, voice echoed and eerie, but sincerely contrite. “Wasn’t aiming there. You alright, Hunk?”_ _

__Hunk pulled of his helmet and scrubbed at the front until it was mostly clean. “Yeah, I’m fine. Gunna be tasting paint for days, though. Your dinner might taste like it too.”_ _

__That made Shiro laugh. “Fair enough. Negative 8, everyone. Good luck.”_ _

__***_ _

__After that, it was a pretty clear shot to the lab. Keith kicked the door in, arms up and already in a fighting stance._ _

__But the room was mostly empty, other than a table of what looked like the toy versions of their bayards, and Matt. He was perched in a chair, a control pad in front of him, and wearing a purple headband. “Oh, hey, you made it. ‘Grats. Little worse for wear, right?”_ _

__“Bite me,” Pidge grumbled back. “What are you supposed to be?”_ _

__Matt pointed to his headband, still grinning. “I’m an NPC. Or, more specifically, I’m a loyal Galra scientist. But I am noodle-armed and cannot fight back, lucky you, so looks like you get lucky.”_ _

__Eyeing him shrewdly, Lance snorted. “You didn’t want to fight?”_ _

__“I told Shiro if he wanted me to do combat it would cost him. Literally. He said I should be paying him for getting to live my LARPing fantasies.” Matt shrugged. “We’re still in contract negotiations, but he needed me to play.”_ _

__Snorting, Pidge shook her head and walked past, looking at the toys. They were all in the shifted forms, rather than the clipped ones. “Where did you get these?”_ _

__Matt gave her an odd look. “We made them, duh. You think these were laying around? So when you’re covered with that gunk, just remember that we were soaked in it yesterday. Worth it though. We did a kickass job.”_ _

__Curious, Pidge picked hers up, then watched as the others snagged their own. Lance immediately fired on the wall, and cheered when it was blue. “Yes! Thank you!”_ _

__Next, Hunk fired, and immediately covered Lance’s splatter with nearly a gallon of paint all over the wall. “Oh, I like that, actually. Bright to look at, but effective. Shiro is in so much trouble.”_ _

__Pidge eyed Keith. “So, how’s yours work?” She smirked at her brother. “Wanna be our test subject?”_ _

__“Wanna know many languages I can say ‘hell no’ in now?”_ _

__Lips curled up, Keith struck at the wall. The sword bounced off it, reminding Pidge of the thick, foam swords she and Matt had as kids. But it left a thick slash of paint in it’s wake. “That’ll do. Sucks to fight a gun with.”_ _

__“Should have thought of that before you brought a sword to a bayard fight,” Hunk replied, clapping Keith on the shoulder and giving him a grin. “You gunna try yours, Pidge?”_ _

__Still not sure what she was expecting from her own, Pidge fired at Matt’s chair. It wrapped around the legs like usual, and the head oozed strands of paint wherever it hit. Soon the entire base of Matt’s chair was soaked green, including his legs. “Hey! C’mon, I didn’t do anything.”_ _

__“You’re a loyal Galra scientist,” Pidge reminded him mockingly. “You probably deserve it.”_ _

__Suddenly, Matt smirked, and he eyed them far too happily. “About that.”_ _

__Uh oh._ _

__

__“You see, since I’m such a loyal Galra, I didn’t try to fight when I knew it would just make you nervous - at least, that’s what I’ll tell my superiors later. Gotta cover my ass. But instead I hit the silent alarm the second you got in.”_ _

___Oh no_._ _

__And as if waiting for Matt’s cue - and, given how silly this whole thing had been, maybe they had been - Allura and Coran both burst in. Both had taken on the purple hue they got when posing as Galra, and they were wearing what looked like painted purple versions of the training gladiator outfits. Each carried one of the shields used for training and another paintball gun._ _

__“Halt!” Allura commanded, her voice fallen into a deeper, theatrical register. “Do not resist and you may be taken alive.”_ _

__“Maybe,” Coran agreed, tilting his head from side to side to look over all of them. “Possibly. It remains to be seen. Surely we don’t need all four.”_ _

__Keith closed his eyes and shot. “This is the most ridiculous thing- ow!” He held on his chest and scowled at the paint burst._ _

__Over his shield, Coran stuck his tongue out at him. “Now who’s ridiculous?”_ _

__Keith held up his weapon, eyes bright. “You will be when you’re dressed as a rainbow.”_ _

__Then Hunk and Lance fired._ _

__Allura burst forward, ducking under the shield and moving forward with all the unstoppable force of a train. The pain covered the shield in blue and yellow, but she remained dry. Yelping, Matt scrambled out of the way, clutching his pad and dragging his chair behind him as he went._ _

__Keith and Lance teamed up on Allura, with Keith engaging her with his sword to keep her from using her gun. Lance stayed on the outskirts, circling slowly as he searched for openings. Whenever he did fire, Allura would whirl and block it, then twist back around and block Keith. Eventually she stopped trying to use the gun as it was made to be used, and just acted like it was a poorly shaped club, parrying Keith’s blows to better use the shield against Lance._ _

__And Pidge would help, but she and Hunk were busy with Coran._ _

__While Allura burst in and held her own, Coran played a surprisingly subtle game. He hung back, using his gun to score the occasional hit. By now, both of them had a new dark spot decorating their armor). He mostly keep them back in a range he could better handle. Neither of them were able to get a good angle, and Coran would either duck behind his shield to protect from Hunk’s wide blasts, or use it like a battering ram to knock away Pidge’s attempts to lasso._ _

__Glancing back at Allura, Hunk’s brow furrowed. Then he took a deep breath. “Swap!” He yelled, loud enough to be heard over the noise._ _

__Without hesitation, the four of them switched opponents. It was a drill Shiro had made them practice what felt like hundreds of times, so the swap was simple, but effective against opponents with the upper hand._ _

__With Allura using her gun as a blunt force weapon, it was easy for Pidge to lasso it and her hand, yanking her off balance. After, Hunk let forth a few volleys while Allura was still struggling. The first two she was still able to twist and block, and the third she ducked under. But the fourth managed to cover her chest in yellow. “Alright, fatal hit,” she conceded, not sounding terribly happy about it. “No captures today. Not from me, anyway.”_ _

__Grinning, Pidge turned to help Keith and Lance, but it wasn’t necessary. Coran had been badly balanced to deal with Keith’s sudden charge, and that put him at the right angle for Lance to hit him in the stomach. He went down, sprawled on the ground. “Nasty way to go. My inner organs are sloshing everywhere. My clan will remember this!”_ _

__Lance whooped and threw up his arms. “Yeah! Team Voltron. Try and kidnap us now!”_ _

__While Lance trotted to each of the teammates, giving them high-fives, Pidge counted the new paint splatters. The four from earlier, plus the one on Keith originally, one from both her and Hunk, and two more on Keith while distracting Coran. Lance also had a smear that looked like it had come from Allura using her gun to smack him, and she figured that probably counted. So, negative 18 in all, and 15 from getting their guns, then 30 more from the two ‘soldiers’. “We’re in the green,” Pidge informed them, grinning. “27 points.”_ _

__“Finally,” Hunk agreed, laughing. “Now we just have to get the last one!”_ _

__Keith eyed them, head tilted like a bird. “Okay, I’m glad we got this far, but... how are we gunna get Shiro if he’s in the ducts?”_ _

__From the corner, Matt started to laugh._ _

__***_ _

__Half an hour later, Pidge understood why._ _

__They had been running around, trying to find where Shiro had gotten into the air ducts in the first place. And in return they’d had their nice stash of positive points whittled away from to 19. They were getting better at dodging and avoiding Shiro’s shots, using the drawbacks of the ducts to their advantage, but it only helped them so much. And it wasn’t worth it to fire back, because they never had enough time to aim through the duct bars. Even Hunk’s shots just dripped off them, and Shiro would come back spotless._ _

__Eventually, Pidge got sick of wandering around after rather than just tracking him. “I don’t care what Shiro said. Let’s just go get my pad from the training room and track him down.”_ _

__Lance nodded. “Yeah, good plan. This sucks.”_ _

__Getting there cost them another hit, but they got inside without much issue, and Pidge grabbed her bag. But the second she tried to pull the pad out, there was a series of quick shots, and the screen was covered in black paint._ _

__Pidge dropped it with a yelp, and she was yanked back by Keith and Hunk before the shots could shift up and hit her instead._ _

__“Minus ten points for cheating,” Shiro’s voice told them blandly through the intercom. “Next time it’ll be twenty.”_ _

__Then he fired again, and they bolted, scowling._ _

__“Okay, this isn’t working either,” Hunk grumbled, once they were back to one of their safe points. “How about next time, we just duck under and be quiet, and see if we can follow him. Because us trying to get to him isn’t getting anywhere.”_ _

__Lance made a face. “We’re already so low on points. I don’t want to go back to the negatives.” He sighed. “But Shiro is worth a lot.”_ _

__“I don’t even care about the points anymore,” Keith grumbled darkly. “I just want Shiro covered in paint too.”_ _

__Finding one of the corners where Shiro was lurking wasn’t hard. It was just a matter of walking around without trying to duck to safety for about five minutes. Once they were finally fired on, and brought down to 3 points in the process, they ducked under, and then when quiet like they’d run away completely._ _

__Pidge found herself actually holding her breath, listening for the sound of Shiro’s footsteps in the ducts, then let it out with an eye roll at herself._ _

__Finally, there was noise above them. But it wasn’t footsteps following them. Instead, it was the sound of the grate being moved._ _

__Jumping out of his spot, Shiro grabbed onto one of the pipes near the ceiling, swinging on it like he was a gymnast on the high bar. Then he used that to fling himself forward and to the side, catching on one of the crannies of the lights on the hallway walls. Shiro held onto it with the tips of his fingers, one foot planted against the wall. He paused, like he was calculating himself, then pitched forward and flipped in the process, landing on his feet and transitioning into a roll to lose the momentum and force. And suddenly Pidge understood how the hell Shiro had been able to escape the Galra in the first place._ _

__Then Shiro stood, turned, and froze at the sight of them still standing there._ _

__Hunk fired, and Shiro went _down_ in a point-blank wall of yellow paint._ _

__For a moment, he stayed on the ground, then he slowly peeled himself up. “I don’t deserve paint-dinner anymore,” he mumbled._ _

__And the four of them exploded into cheers, even as Hunk went over to help pull him up. Which was hard to do, when he was also desperately trying to avoid getting smeared in yellow paint himself._ _

__Lance, however, didn’t have this problem. He launched himself forward and wrapped Shiro in a quick hug, not seeming to mind at all how the front of his armor came away canary yellow. “That was awesome! We need to do this all the time.”_ _

__“I think we don’t have a choice about it. Allura and Coran were relieved to find that Earth has at least one form of training culture they approve of. They were upset we hadn’t mentioned it before, honestly.” Shiro grinned. “So it was worth it to put in the effort of getting your weapons converted. We still have to figure out what to do about my hand.”_ _

__Keith eyed his rifle. “I think that thing was bad enough.”_ _

__That just made Shiro smirk. “Unfortunately, I don’t think the Galra have a supply of paintball guns on their ships. Otherwise I think Sam could have taken out the entire empire himself. He was kind of terrifying with it, when I asked him for tips.”_ _

__Pidge puffed up in pride for her father. “Yeah, he is pretty scary.”_ _

__“And you all worked together well. Got yesterday out of your system, then?” Shiro arched a brow at them, expression serious despite being covered in paint._ _

__Lance flapped a hand. “We made up and everything. You probably heard it, you creepy lurker. Can we go clean up now? I think I have paint up my nose.”_ _

__Snorting, Shiro rolled his eyes and gave Lance a gently shove toward the showers. “Yeah, yeah, go clean up. But after lunch you’re all helping me clean back up.”_ _

__“Ugh,” Pidge grumbled, but didn’t bother to protest. If they tried to get out of it, Shiro would make some way to make it a ‘bonding exercise’, and she doubted it’d be as fun as this one._ _

__“Next time, I’ll put Sam in charge,” Shiro murmured, half to himself. “That way I don’t have to play a Galra.”_ _

__Pidge’s heart froze._ _

__Shiro had been hard enough. They were so, so screwed._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the fun while it lasts, everyone.


	2. A Fury In Your Words

“What is it going to take to make this thing _die_?” Keith grumbled, grinding his teeth so hard it was audible over the mics.

That was an excellent question.

The Robeast scuttered from side to side, like it was trying to figure out their next move. Which would be impressive, considering Shiro had no idea what else to do with it. It didn’t help that the thing gave him the creeps. It reminded him of an overgrown, armored centipede, each of its many legs tipped with long, jagged claws. It used that to get over any terrain they literally threw it at, and had even managed to swim out of the pool of something they’d thrown it into.

Shiro had never been particularly bothered by bugs before, but his stomach was turning at the sight. Maybe it was that one of the others had a fear of bugs, and Shiro was picking up on it through the connection. 

In fact, now that Shiro was looking for it, all of them seemed to be disturbed by the beast. More than he would have suspected, either.

Which might explain why they just couldn’t get a grip on the Robeast. It squirmed out of everything they did, and had even managed to catch Keith’s sword in its many claws.

They really needed a plan. It was pretty pathetic if Voltron was defeated by a giant bug.

“What does it even want?” Pidge panted, voice dripping with surprising venom. “Maybe if we can figure out what it was designed for, we can figure out how to squish it already.”

As if it could hear them, the Robeast suddenly jolted forward, with the speed of a striking snake. All five of them scrambled in response, disgust rising in unison.

It followed after, twisting like a whip-cord, and it wrapped around the yellow lion, unbalancing them.

“Get it off!” Hunk yelled. “Get it off _get it off_!”

“On it!” Keith replied. He stabbed down at the beast, using the sword as a lever rather than a weapon. “Lance, balance!”

Lance growled. “I’m trying! It’s harder than it sounds. You try doing this while we’re in a giant robot!”

Suddenly, the Robeast gave a pained hiss and slunk off. As it moved, it was clear Keith must have finally struck somewhere that wasn’t armored, because the yellow lion was liberally coated in a layer of goopy orange.

“Ew,” Lance muttered.

Pidge gagged. “Ugh, it smells.”

Yes, it did. Worse, it smelled familiar, somehow. Shiro couldn’t place it, exactly.

Wait, no. He knew some of it. It smelled acidic.

“We need to wash this off now,” Hunk told them, voice picking up speed. “Because I’m pretty sure it’s _eating through the lion_.”

Oh shit.

“Allura, Coran, is there anything with a basic PH on the planet?” Pidge asked quickly.

There was a quick pause. “Scanning.” Coran told them. “Scanning very fast.”

“Start with the lake,” Sam suggested. “It’ll be easiest to wash off with.”

Another pause. “Neutral PH balance, and safe for contact,” Coran reported. 

“Good enough,” Shiro decided. With the noises he was starting to hear, he didn’t trust walking or flying with the yellow lion. “We’re going to do a big jump. One large thrust, alright?”

“Got it,” Lance and Hunk both replied. And with one step, they launched themselves into the lake.

Thick, dark green filled Shiro’s screen as they went under. “How are you, Hunk?”

There was a pause long enough to make his heart ratchet up, but then Hunk replied. “Good. We’re good. No leaks yet. I’m still air tight, looks like.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, Shiro closed his eyes. He hadn’t thought it would eat through that quickly, but even as a possibility... “Good. Alright, let’s get back to the surface.”

Which turned out to be harder than it sounded. The green ‘water’ was thick, and Voltron was heavy. And while they were plenty coordinated for fighting, swimming turned out to be a little more complicated.

By the time they finally broke the surface, the beast was gone.

“Where the hell did it go?” Shiro groaned, resisting the urge to let go of his controls to scrub over his face. That was a great way to get caught unawares.

“It’s heading north,” Allura reported, tone careful. “I’m not sure why. But Keith must have gotten a good hit, because it seems to be badly wounded.”

“Well, that’s one good news,” Keith muttered. “Can we go finish it, now?”

Diagnostics opened on Shiro’s screen, showing the condition of the yellow lion. 

“I think I’m okay for a bit of flying, but we better wrap this up quick. Preferably without any more acid on me,” Hunk said.

“Paladins,” Allura spoke, voice suddenly much sharper. “You had better hurry. It’s heading directly for the town.”

Shiro’s stomach dropped. The town was a good few kilometers up, but that centipede could get there quickly, especially with a head start. And he wouldn’t put it past one of the Robeast to use a possibly lethal hit and acid blood to do as much damage as possible. “We’re on it. Just show us where to go.”

The map popped up, showing a blinking dot following the Robeast. “Looks like it’s going for that one building on its own,” Matt pointed out. “Anyone know what it is?”

Shiro felt Lance’s horror before he even spoke. “I think that’s the school they showed us.”

Oh. Oh _no_. 

The school for the children of a newly freed planet, with resources and technology to make a dent in the Galra empire. All of them killed in such a hideous way...

Shiro had absolutely no doubt it was by design. It was exactly something the Galra would do, especially Haggar.

“ _Son of a bitch_ ,” Shiro snarled, as they burst into action. His disgust with the action mixed with the constant, low-level disturbing feeling the Robeast caused in him, and Shiro’s vision hazed with rage. “I’m going to rip that thing’s _spine_ out and strangle it with it!”

There was a moment of silence, mostly startled. “Does it have a spine?” Pidge asked, as they landed hard by the centipede, sending up dirt and dust as they skidded to a halt. Hunk grunted, but the yellow lion held.

“Intestines work just as well,” Shiro muttered back, eyes narrowed. Hatred ran through his blood like a physical, molten thing, and he jammed the controls forward, still grumbling darkly. He wasn’t yelling, but it was bubbling out of him in a constant, furious rumble. “That little goddamn _motherfucker_. What the fuck is wrong with all these pieces of shit? Yes, you, you bastard clusterfuck of an asswit. I’m talking about you.” Voltron grabbed onto the centipede, yanking it back from the building before it could do more than probably give everyone inside a good scare. They lobbed it away, hard enough that it crashed into the ground and left a crater where it landed. 

At some point, Shiro was vaguely aware he’d switched over to maybe-Galran, if a lower class dialect. Or maybe it was a different language altogether. Shiro hadn’t exactly been able to ask. He only knew how to tell the Robeast that its mother was a particularly ugly whore of a herd animal and that it should have done them all a favor and climbed back into her ass where it belonged.

Rather than go for the sword, Hunk slammed his bayard in, and the dozens of shots all aimed at the crack in the underside armor Keith’s sword had managed.

And once it was finally still, a good size of what probably served as its chest completely blown off, Shiro noticed he was panting.

Slowly, he came back to himself, and realized exactly what he’d been saying. Over the intercom. Where Allura and Coran, at least, could probably understand a lot of what he was saying even without the translator. 

Well, shit.

“Um,” Shiro murmured, slowly slumping in his seat. “Ah, I’m sorry.”

Which was about when Matt burst into delighted laughter. “Holy shit, Shiro!”

And that just set off the other paladins.

“Did anyone record that?” Lance asked, sounding nothing short of delighted. “Oh my god, I need all of that on tape. Someone please tell me this gets recorded somewhere.”

“What language was that?” Pidge breathed, and Shiro thought it was the first time she’d sounded so awed when a robot wasn’t involved. “Was that even one language?”

Then Hunk cleared his throat. “Guys? Melted lion? I’m all for interrogating Shiro on this one, but I’d appreciate it if we did it on the way home.”

Allura cut in. “That’s a good idea. I think you should head back.” Then she paused, and Shiro got the distinct feeling she was smirking, though her image was still covered by the yellow lion’s stats. “And I assure you, I’ve heard far worse.”

“Alright, alright. I’m going to regret this forever, I know. Let’s head back.” As they launched off the planet, he took a deep breath, trying to focus back into leader mode. He was having a hard time when Lance and Pidge were both trying to figure out the pronunciation of some of the words. “Hey, no, I don’t want to hear any of you repeating that.”

Sam let out a snort. “Yes, it’s certainly not too late for that.”

“Thanks for the help.”

“Shiro, you can’t say no now. You said it over the _intercoms_. That means it has to be okay, right?” And that, surprisingly, was Keith. And he didn’t need a camera to see the smirk he must be wearing.

Lance’s made a wordless noise of agreement. “Was it _haxren_ or _haxrem_?”

“Frankly, Lance, I’m not even sure I have it right. So drop it, okay?”

“It’s _haxlen_ , actually,” Coran corrected, openly amused. “If you’re going to curse, at least do it correctly. Otherwise it makes us look bad.”

Shiro sighed and closed his eyes. This was going to haunt him for weeks. Reaching out to the lion, he wondered if next time he lost himself like that, if his helmet mic could please be turned off automatically?

And the fact that the mechanical rumble he got back sounded like laughter didn’t make him very confident the lion was going to help.

Typical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm.... A bug like creature with orange blood. Just where have we seen something like this before? :|a Hmmm....


	3. Wrath Makes Him Deaf

Shiro’s head ached.

Blinking his eyes open, he took a moment to make his eyes focus. The hazy grey in front of him turned into a rough pattern that he eventually realized was a metal floor. But a dirty one, with a sickly orange color.

That wasn’t right.

Once that was established, he worked on moving. Even shifting his head made his stomach turn uncomfortably, but at least he could see more.

Ahead of him, he could see Lance slumped back against the wall, clearly still down for the count. Keith was slightly beyond Lance, and he hadn’t even been dumped that far, slumped on the ground like Shiro had been.

So, that was two. Biting off a groan, Shiro picked himself up enough to turn his head the other way, then slumped back down.

Okay, they were all together, good. Pidge was curled into a little ball, just as still as Lance and Keith, but Hunk seemed to be stirring too. If anything, he seemed to be a bit more alert.

Hazily, part of Shiro’s brain recognized that they’d probably been dosed. He and Hunk were the largest, so whatever it was wore off faster for them.

Now if he could just think of a solution instead, that’d be great.

Noticing his gaze and movement, Hunk jerked his head toward the front of the ship, then pulled at his own arms. They didn’t move, and Shiro realized he was cuffed. They all were. He hadn’t even seen it. Shit.

Shiro squinted and managed to pick his head up at an angle, following Hunk’s movement. Whatever this ship was, it seemed small, because they were being kept in the same main room as the control panel. Considering it also had what looked like a faucet and a bed, this was probably the only room.

Luckily, whoever-the-hell hadn’t noticed them stirring. They were still busy with their ship, murmuring quietly as they worked.

First bit of good news since opening his eyes.

Okay, first thing’s first. Cuffs. He could get out of those, given half an hour or so tops without their captor hovering. But that didn’t look like they were going to get that, so Shiro was either going to need to work subtly, like he’d tried with Sendak, or just fight without his arms.

Honestly, the cuff job was pretty terrible to begin with. Maybe they were supposed to be out for longer, but the handcuffs only tied his wrists together. He could easily swing them over his legs, and had a decent amount of maneuverability. Next time he got the chance, he’d have to remind the others that if they ever needed to capture someone, wrists to elbows was so much more effective.

And while he worked on the cuffs, Shiro had time to think. How the hell had they gotten here?

Last thing he remembered was... the distress call. It had brought them to some tiny moon with a wreck on it. Life support had still been active, but any communication hails hadn’t been returned, so they’d gone inside the ship to investigate. And once the air had been cleared as breathable, the helmets had deactivated.

A gas, maybe? If so, it was a trap from someone who knew how the helmets worked. And that was terrifying.

Suddenly, the alien let out a snort and started to turn. Shiro slumped down, hoping like hell that Hunk would do the same, and that his new position wouldn’t be noticed.

And considering there was no yell, Shiro was pretty sure the alien hadn’t seen. “Everybody goes for the lions,” he muttered, words coming out as a distinctly pleased slur. “They all think they’re so smart, going for the big payout. But who got them, huh? Idiots.” They walked back and forth, probably surveying their bounty.

That was when Lance started to stir.

Shit.

“The hell...” Lance groaned, and Shiro could hear the sound of his cuffs clanking as he moved. “ _Ow_.”

That made the alien give out another of those snorting noises, and Shiro thought it might be his version of a laugh. “You’ll be hurting a lot more than that soon. My little cloud gas ain’t nothing compared to what you’re heading to.”

Lance paused, probably taking in the situation, and the fact that everyone else seemed to still be out. And, damn him, his response was to get louder. To keep the attention on him.

Part of Shiro was proud, but mostly he was just terrified.

“That’s what you think. Five of us and one of you? We’ll have control of this ship in less than a tick,” Lance told him, voice full of the confidence that only sounded real before living with him. “The worst thing I’m going to deal with today is how much you stink.”

There was a crack, and then a thump. Lance had been hit. Shiro dug his fingers into the floor, but did his best to keep pretending to be out. The best thing they could do was wait for a distraction. But Shiro wasn’t ready yet. He needed the alien to go back to paying attention to the ship again, or at least not right here. Enough time for everyone to be awake and to start to shake off whatever they’d breathed in. For now, he could only keep working his wrists as much as possible, trying to figure out if he could break them or slip out. He hadn’t dislocated his thumb in the right way since his escape, and he’d always been able to do it when no one else was around.

The alien snorted again, not sounding angry despite the way he’s struck Lance. “You say that, but I doubt you can even stand. And even if you could, one little press of a button and you’re back asleep before you can breathe. But you can continue to yell. I don’t mind. It’s a boring flight otherwise, you know.”

“Oh, I can be entertaining, alright,” Lance nearly spat. “Maybe a little song? 99 bottles of beer on the wall, 99 bottles of bee-” He grunted as there was another smack. 

“Lance!” Two voices, Hunk and Keith. Shiro hadn’t even heard Keith wake up. Then again, Keith had always been one of those awake or asleep people, no drowsing between. “Shut _up_ ,” Keith continued, voice a low, angry hiss.

Lance spat, then let out a laugh. “You guys are bad at this plan thing. But what, you don’t know the song?”

“Singing ain’t the kind of entertainment I had in mind,” the alien murmured, voice dripping with poisoned honey. Shiro shivered at the tone. “I was thinking maybe we could play a lil game. It’s called ‘what are the Galra gunna do with you when they get you?’ Paladins of Voltron would make a damn fine Gladiator match. Might use some of my payout to go see it.”

Shutting his eyes tighter, Shiro fought off a gag and gave another yank on the cuffs. They didn’t seem new or particularly well crafted, so maybe he could just break them?

Lance stayed quiet, and Shiro stilled, just in case they glanced at him at the mention of the matches, and the alien followed their looks, because he suspected the mention of the gladiators had them looking at him. “I dunno about that game,” Hunk told him, venomous under his faux ease. “Maybe we can play the one where you _shut up_.”

This time, the alien actually paused. And Shiro didn’t blame them, because that tone would have made him stop, too. 

But it didn’t last long. “Well, don’t you worry, there’s plenty we can do that doesn’t involve talking. There’s other ways to have fun, after all.” The alien stood, then took a couple of steps. “You see, this time’s my favorite. Where you’re awake but you can’t really move, and you can scream but you can’t fight. I have lots of fun at times like this.”

A shift, and then a groan. Pidge. 

Shiro’s eyes shot open, but he didn’t pick up his head. Please, let him be wrong.

“Don’t you touch her!” Keith snarled, barely sounding human. Hunk and Lance both shouted their anger, but Shiro’s head was starting to swim with something that had nothing to do with whatever they’d been dosed with.

Another groan from Pidge, and more shifting. Trying to fight back. But Pidge was so much smaller than the rest of them, so the dose would still be strong...

Giving up, Shiro picked his head up just in time to see the alien cup Pidge’s jaw. “Her? Oh, well. Maybe the Galra won’t get this one. After all, I could do with a kid or two.”

Something in Shiro _snapped_.

He could take listening to the others take a hit or two. It was a reality of what they did, and Shiro had let himself be kicked clear across a room to let someone get an opening. He hated it, but understanding that it might happen was part of leading them.

But that was unacceptable.

With a cry, Shiro shoved himself to his feet and launched himself at the alien. They went down hard, clearly not expecting anyone to be standing. But Shiro had stood and fought through much worse, even if he couldn’t remember all of it. After that, he could take out one surprised, unarmed opponent, even cuffed.

Speaking of.

Kicking off the alien’s chest, Shiro landed on his back, curling up into a fetal position and shoving his arms down and up his boots. Once they were in front of him, he kicked out again, using the momentum to get back to his feet.

Then he dove forward. And he might not have a lot of maneuverability right now, but Shiro had weight, and he had a weapon.

Shoving all his bulk forward, he slammed the chain against the alien’s neck, ignoring the desperate scratching at his face and shoulders. And it seemed to be a theme that life seemed to either need blood flow or breathed through this area, because he could feel the alien weakening slowly.

Once they seemed on the verge of passing out, Shiro pulled back up.

They weren’t getting out of it this easily.

Instead, he pulled back and slammed both his fists into the alien’s face.

After that was a blur. It might have been from the gas, or it may have just been from the haze of rage.

Distantly, Shiro noticed the crunching noises, and the slick feeling under his hands as he continued to strike. Heard the cries and screams.

But it wasn’t until arms hooked around his waist and pulled him back that Shiro really registered it.

“Hey, there,” Lance murmured. “I think you did enough. He’s pretty well defeated. C’mon, back with us, you’re kinda freaking out.”

Pidge snorted, and Shiro paused to look her over. “Nah, this is fine. Shiro can keep going if he wants.” She paused. “Actually, no, scratch that, I want a chance too. Yeah, time’s up, next in line.”

“Yeah, I don’t have a problem with this,” Hunk agreed. “I think this is a healthy way to get out some aggression.”

“It was starting to be a hazard,” Lance replied. “We don’t want someone to slip and get hurt.” He shifted, pushing Shiro back against the wall next to Keith. “There, you sit tight.”

Wait, no. Reaching out, Shiro grabbed onto Lance’s shoulder, then pulled back when it left a blue-ish handprint on the white. Oops. “You okay?”

Lance grinned, then winced. “Yeah, just a couple of smacks. I’ll be okay, we’ve all had worse. Now you sit. Keith is in charge of babysitting you, while I help Hunk and Pidge take control of the ship, okay?”

The wording made him frown, but Shiro wasn’t still all there, so he just gave a quiet nod. Lance patted his cheek, then heaved himself to his feet. Beyond him, Pidge was rooting through some of the supplies on the console, and gave a gleeful noise when she held up a remote. A moment later, all the cuffs clicked open and fell to the floor.

Watching as Hunk hovered over both, Shiro started as a hand settled on his shoulder. “Hey, you there?”

“Kinda,” Shiro replied. He looked over at Keith, blinking slowly. “You okay?”

Keith’s brow furrowed. “Yeah. I mean, other than the situation. Why?”

“Just checking.” He felt better, as he made sure everyone was in one piece. Shiro looked down at his hands and crinkled his nose, then looked at the alien.

The pile of blood and broken bones that was the alien.

Finally, what had happened sunk in, and Shiro’s breath caught. “Fuck.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t... the target deserved it, but- Shiro, are _you_ okay?”

Shiro let out a low gust of breath, then nodded. “For now, yeah.” He swallowed. “But that might be a problem later.”

“Worry about it then,” Keith advised, which was such a Keith kind of perspective that Shiro couldn’t help cracking a smile. 

It didn’t last long. “Is this going to be a problem? For you all.”

Keith gave him a confused look, then glanced at the alien. “I... here, one second.” He stood, then snagged up his cuffs and walked to the alien. He cuffed the wrists together, then wiped his hands off on his armor. The alien groaned painfully.

Oh. Not dead. That was actually a surprise.

Sitting back down, Keith shrugged. “It’s probably not great. And it wasn’t exactly fun to see. But, Shiro, it was to defend us, not to hurt us. That does count for something.” 

“Feel free to do it any time. So long as it’s a choice, I mean.” Pidge walked back over, taking care to walk right onto the alien’s chest in the process. They groaned again.

Shiro stared at her, then back at Keith. “Regardless of why, I think it’s probably a problem that I snapped like that.”

Keith just shrugged back. “It got the job done.”

Chest cold, Shiro wondered where he’d gone wrong that they thought it was acceptable for their leader to beat someone bloody in a fit of rage.

“Hey, c’mon,” Hunk called, picking his head up from the console he’d pulled open. “Shiro, look. It’s been months of this, and you’ve lost it like that once. This whole time. Despite some pretty intense stuff going on. And there’s a reason that there’s a legal precedent for ‘fighting words’. Sometimes there’s no way to react but in anger. This is pretty clearly one of those times. I would have done the same thing if I could have.”

Lance nodded. “Same. In a heartbeat. I only stopped you ‘cause I figured if you killed him, you’d be upset.”

“So, worry about it later. Like I said. Do what you need to do when it’s over.” Keith shrugged. “For now, we have a castle to return to.”

Hunk hummed. “Actually, this thing is pretty dinky. It’d be faster just to hail the castle and have them come to us.”

Taking a deep breath, Shiro closed his eyes, then nodded. This was... he wasn’t okay, and he wasn’t happy that they were so calm about it. But he could deal with that later. “Sounds like a plan.” He stood, feeling like he was aligning each vertebrae of his spine one at a time. “Did you find your bayards? I want you to keep them on you. We got surprised once today, no need for it to happen again.”

Keith was right. He could freak out later.

For now, there was work to do.


	4. What Majesty Should Be, What Duty Is

Shiro paced across the room, clenching and unclenching his fists. “What am I even doing, here?”

Brows up, Sam watched him calmly, still perched on his chair. He had no notebook, which Shiro found comforting. The whole talking thing would have been so much worse if he was constantly writing things down. Mind, Sam made it clear these talks were recorded, but at least it wasn’t audible and visible. “Piloting the Black Lion? Talking to me? You’re going to have to be more specific, I’m afraid.”

“I mean, with them. I totally snapped on the bounty hunter. Completely hazed out. And they act like I was startled and elbowed someone in reaction!” Shiro stood behind his own chair, gripping down hard on it. It creaked, but held. “At what point did that become acceptable?”

Sam sighed. “I’m not going to say that behavior was unacceptable. But it was under duress, while you were still drugged. And you’re working on it. I think allowances can be made.”

Scowling, Shiro shook his head. “No, I mean- yes, it was a bad situation, and I’m working on it not happening again. Obviously. It can’t keep happening, and they deserve better from me. I’m worried about their reactions. That it’s normal now.”

“Ah,” Sam murmured, though from the way he looked Shiro up and down, he thought there was something else. “You’re worried about the others.”

Shiro gestured widely. “Yes! You’re not? They haven’t even graduated yet. I’m the only commanding officer they’ve ever known. So when I go off, what the hell examples do they have to know how wrong that is? They were joking about it.”

That made Sam peer over the top of his glasses. “And you think it was all sincere?” When Shiro paused, confused, Sam shrugged one shoulder. “It wouldn’t have been an effort to calm you down when you were clearly distressed?”

Thinking back, Shiro frowned, leaning against the back of the chair. “I... I’m not sure. Some of it, maybe. I don’t think all of it. No, definitely not. There was talk of wanting to do it themselves.” Shiro rubbed over his face. “Because I set an example. Dammit.”

“Takashi, breathe,” Sam murmured. “Take a moment. This can be dealt with.” He waited until Shiro had settled down again. “If you feel it’s gone beyond acceptable levels, you talk to them and make it clear what is expected of them. And sometimes they will go past it, in moments of heat. You’re allowed those times too. You’re human, and you need to allow yourself to be. Even as a leader, you cannot be perfect.”

Shiro glanced up at him through his bangs. “Shouldn’t I try?”

“Only when you don’t beat yourself up for failing, when failure is inevitable,” Sam pointed out. “And when you don’t feel like you’re not good at what you do for those mistakes. No leader is perfect, under any circumstances.”

Shiro sat down heavily in the chair. “Most leaders don’t have violent outbursts like that.”

Sam eyed him right back. “And most leaders don’t have to deal with alien bounty hunters threatening your teammates in that way. And for all we talk about the chain of command, it’s certainly not the typical model. It wouldn’t work if you tried to enforce that.”

Tapping a nervous finger on his thigh, Shiro shrugged. “I don’t know any other way of putting it,” he admitted. “And it... sums up my expectations. And what they should be able to expect.”

“You all expect more,” Sam replied. “In your day to day interactions. Parts of it have already gone out the window, so I think you can forgive yourself this one moment. If you’re that worried, just talk with them, like I said. But you’re _allowed_. I’m giving you permission, right now, as your former commanding officer.”

Shiro slumped and nodded, because, absurdly, that helped. He did glance up again, lips pulling up. “You might be slightly biased in this case.”

“Because it was my child, or because it’s you?” Sam asked, and Shiro stared. He hadn’t considered the second reason at all. “Both are valid. And yes, I am biased. We all are, But like you said, we make do anyway. And even taking those factors out, I don’t believe it’s an unfixable situation.”

Sighing, Shiro rested his head back on the chair. “And is this the part where you tell me I’m making mountains out of molehills?”

Sam straightened and frowned at him. “Of course not. Takashi, you’re in here, pacing and moving around like a caged animal. This is bothering you. The goals of this aren’t to tell you that what you’re feeling or thinking is wrong. It’s helping you work through those feelings. And if they’re a mountain to you, then we climb it. Simple as that.”

For a long moment, Shiro digested that. “Okay.” 

“Good,” Sam replied, leaning back as well, his hands folded calmly in his lap. “Now, I have a thought, and it might well be wrong, but I’m curious. Part of the issue is that you lost control around the others. But, I wonder how you feel about losing control in the first place.”

Unable to help it, Shiro snorted out a laugh. “What control?” He gestured widely again, this time with jerky, wild movements. “The control between flashbacks? Or maybe between alien attacks. Somewhere between getting kidnapped, getting out, and getting carted to an alien planet inside a giant robot lion?”

Sam’s brows rose, and he didn’t reply. Slowly, Shiro slumped again. “You don’t feel you have any control?” He finally asked.

“I don’t feel like I have stable control,” Shiro replied, picking his words carefully. “I feel like my control is gone everytime I try and get comfortable with it, and then I’m scrambling again.”

Letting out a slow breath, Sam nodded. “Understandable. Actually, that explains some things for me. I wonder if that explains some of your stress levels.”

“Aside from fighting the Galra?”

“Yes,” Sam replied, though he smiled. “I admit, it also worries me some that you seem unbothered for your own sake. You were drugged, abducted, and threatened to be brought back to the Galra. Yet you say what bothers you is their reaction to you.”

Shiro stared back, brow furrowed. “Well, yes, but the abduction thing happens fairly often.”

“Does that make it easier or harder?”

Opening his mouth, Shiro paused. “It makes it something I’m getting used to,” he finally returned. He stood again, resting his hand on the chair. “Why does that worry you? Shouldn’t I be more concerned for them?”

“I think you can be both,” Sam replied. “I’m not sure you think you can. To be honest, I would feel better if I ever saw you react for yourself. When it’s for everyone else, I’m not sure if you’ve suppressed those emotions or if you just don’t feel them.” Then he paused and glanced away, looking at the table instead. Shiro got the feeling he hadn’t put that the way he meant to.

Regardless, Shiro shrugged. “Isn’t that what a leader does?”

Looking back, Sam frowned. “Not to the point that your own reactions don’t matter anymore. When you don’t have the time and safety to deal with emotions and consequences of what happens to you, that’s where PTSD stems from in the first place. So I’m not sure you trying to fit the mold of a leader so hard that you’re enforcing it on yourself is helpful in the long term.”

“What else am I supposed to do?” Shiro shot back. “Freak out in front of them? Go on and on about what happened to me? Give up? I don’t know how to _make_ myself feel things! I’m sorry, I’m trying as best I can!”

It was a short rant, but it still left him breathless, breathing after from the force of his frustration. He got it, he was bad at this. When Shiro went one way, it turned out he should have gone another. But he didn’t have a choice about any of this. He was the one who got picked, and he had to keep trying or else the universe was screwed.

And usually, he appreciated Sam’s help. Near always. But once in awhile, it was hard to talk about this with him. Because Sam had been such an amazing commander to him, that Shiro had tried to emulate him. And having him point out Shiro’s fuck ups made it harder.

Sam stared at him, then moved to stand. “Takashi-”

But then the intercom on the control panel clicked on. “Hello? I hate to interrupt,” Coran spoke up. “Are you both still there?”

“Yes, Coran,” Sam replied, then he glanced at the time. “Oh, seems we went over our schedule. You needed one of us?”

Coran hummed. “Not a problem, no rush. We just had some planning for the next mission to do with Shiro. Princess Allura will be going down as well, and we need to plan how the escort will work.”

“Aren’t afraid I’ll lose her again?”

The amount of venom in his own voice surprised Shiro. It was something he’d made himself put aside, because Coran had been upset and he had been the one to fuck up, after all. They’d nearly lost Allura because of him. Once in awhile, he thought about it, but by that point it was in the past and he hadn’t wanted to dig it up.

Maybe Sam had a point about feeling things for himself. Maybe he did, he just put them to the side and let them fester.

Finally, it occurred to him that no one had spoken since. Picking his head up, Shiro saw Sam staring at him, eyes wide.

Shit. He’d heard him. Which meant Coran had, too. “I- I apologize, Coran, that was uncalled for.”

There was another beat of silence, then Coran sighed. “No. Honestly, it was perfectly called for. I assumed, when it never came up, that it was understood that-” He cut himself off. “That was my mistake.”

“Coran,” Sam ventured, words slow and cautious. “Can the discussion be put back a little while?”

“A couple of hours, certainly. Not more than that, though.”

Brows up, Sam regarded him. “I’m not sure what this discussion was about, but from the sounds of it, we might need to talk about it.”

God, Shiro did not want to. But it was for a cowardly reason, because he didn’t want to have to hash out the cause with Sam. He didn’t want his former commander to hear about the details of how badly he’d fucked up.

And that was a shitty reason. 

Sam was still waiting for his answer.

Taking a deep breath, Shiro nodded. “It’s pretty simple, but I can talk about it.”

“I’ll be down shortly,” Coran replied quietly, and then he cut out.

For a long moment, Shiro stood, his head still down and his eyes closed, his whole body tense. Sam gave him time, letting him get his breathing back under control. “Before Coran arrives, do you want to tell me your version of what happened?”

Shiro frowned at the wording, because it made him feel like he was a teenager, being talked down to by a teacher. But he knew Sam didn’t mean it that way. “The Princess and I scouted a Galra ship, at one point. She was captured during it. Coran made it clear how he felt about it. Nothing more than that.”

“Sounds like a lot more than that,” Sam replied. “And we already discussed that things bothering you are important.”

That only made Shiro scowl, and he looked away.

There was a knock at the door then, and Coran stepped in, looking uncharacteristically awkward. He glanced at Shiro, who didn’t dare look up and meet his eyes yet, then looked to Sam.

“Coran, would you mind explaining to me what happened, in your own words?” Sam asked calmly, and Shiro reminded himself that he meant the questions to be equal, not that he doubted Shiro’s word.

Letting out a long, gusty sigh, Coran nodded. “Several months ago, Allura was captured while scouting with Shiro. And in the immediate aftermath, I was distraught, and we knew nothing except that Allura hadn’t made it and Shiro had. So I blamed him, which was terribly ill done of me. It was momentary, and emotional, and after when it never came up, I assumed it was understood that I was lashing out.” He glanced at Shiro again, and didn’t look away when Shiro kept his head down. “And I didn’t particularly want to bring it up. But I am sorry, Shiro.”

It wasn’t what Shiro wanted to hear, somehow. From either of them. 

And wasn’t that messed up? That he wanted to be yelled at, told he’d fucked up and that he needed to do better. How he’d appreciated it when Matt had taken him aside, earlier in the week, and told him he needed to stop breaking his promises and scaring them all.

Shiro wanted his feelings validated, even when those feelings were that he was shitty at what he loved doing. And when they weren’t, he didn’t know what to trust. Sam told him to feel what he felt, but everyone else acted like they were wrong, and he couldn’t tell where the break, was.

Lost in the revelation, Shiro didn’t notice Coran reaching out to him until there was a hand gripping his upper arm. Reacting on pure instinct, Shiro smacked the hand away and snapped into a fighting stance, palm flat and ready to ignite into a weapon.

Coran stared back, stunned and hurt.

Instantly, Shiro dropped his arm. “I- no, it wasn’t... I was startled. I’m sorry.”

For a moment, Coran watched him carefully. Then, miraculously, bravely, he reached out again. And this time, Shiro let him, eyes closing when his hand rested on his shoulder. “No need to worry. I’m the one apologizing, today. I honestly have no idea how you kept from yelling at me, that day. Especially when Allura gave you no choice. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It wasn’t the time. Getting her back was more important. And you were right, anyway.” Shiro didn’t open his eyes, still slumped forward, his weight held up by the arm resting on the back of his chair.

Coran puffed himself up and frowned. “I was not right! There was no other choice you could have made, unless humans have an until now unexplored ability to fly.”

Frowning, Shiro shook his head. “It was my job to keep her safe.”

“Yet she made the call,” Coran replied. “She threw you bodily.” Behind him, Sam let out a tiny choking noise, probably of surprise. “She made her own choices. You did well as you could have.”

Shiro closed his eyes against tears. “I still failed.”

“You know,” Sam mused, voice quiet and devastatingly gentle. “Responsibility is a form of control. It implies that you not only have the ability to do something, but a duty to. And losing that control could be a failed responsibility.”

Head snapping up, Shiro stared at Sam. It was a connection he’d never made before, and it resonated deep in his bones, almost in an animalistic place.

He didn’t like the feeling.

Then Shiro looked over at Coran and flinched. He looked wounded. Older. And so guilty.

It occurred to him that he’d barely said anything in response to Coran’s apologies.

“It’s fine,” Shiro told him. “I understand.”

The look on Coran’s face proved he didn’t believe him for a second.

Shiro didn’t know how to be more convincing when he didn’t think anyone should believe it.

Using the hand still on Shiro’s shoulder, Coran tugged him gently. When he stepped forward, Coran wrapped him in a loose hug. “You did well,” he repeated, voice soft.

Then why did Shiro feel like such a fraud right now?

He couldn’t listen to this.

Shiro pulled back, just as gently, and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, it’s not- I have to go. I’ll be there in an hour.”

And then he ran out.

Once he was past the door, Shiro stopped, trying to catch his breath and keep the burning behind his eyes from developing into tears. And it wasn’t by design, but he could still hear them.

“That wasn’t altogether successful,” Coran murmured, voice low and wounded. Shiro closed his eyes against it, hating that he’d caused that. “I had no idea he was still carrying that.”

Sam sighed. “He does a very good job deflecting for someone his age. For now, let him be. This was never supposed to be an instant fix, no matter what we hope.”

That made Coran chuckle, though it was a tired sound. “I forget they’re so young,” he replied.

“I do too.”

Did Shiro still count as young? He didn’t feel it.

Shaking his head, he took a finally, deep breath, then scrubbed over his face, just to make sure he wasn’t looking blotchy, in case in ran into someone on the way.

Then he fled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By now, I think you can see the shape of my goal here.
> 
> Part of Shiro finally addressing his issues and healing is him letting himself be angry and deal with that constructively. Part of that is letting out everything he's been bottling, including things that he avoided addressing. Even things he intellectually knows weren't sincere.
> 
> Poor Coran got the brunt of it, but that's not an accident: Coran is an adult. A solider. Someone who's safer to vent at, if it comes to it, rather than the other paladins or Allura. Why do you think Shiro's is comfortable going to Sam to talk things out? Same reasons. Like he said, the chain of command is how Shiro knows how to deal with people. 
> 
> As for being successful at learning to deal with his emotions... well, that's still a work in progress. 
> 
> (And poor Sam is trying his Best. He's a doctor, but he's not that kind of doctor)
> 
> Next week, we finish up the last chapter. And after that, we begin the final story in the Spectrum Verse.


	5. I Would Not Wish any Companion in the World But You

There were levels of depth to forming Voltron. That had been pretty clear, even from the beginning.

It was a sliding scale of meshing, where intentions and thoughts blended into each other’s. That was the only way that Voltron could function, if each of them were an extension of the other.

But it wasn’t all they were. Even in the middle of flawless coordination, there were things they could continue to hide. Everyone had hidden their pasts, to some degree or another, and feelings tended to come and go, depending on the paladin in question.

Shiro had never gone very deep. And he did his best to hide that, but if he was called out on it, he wouldn’t change. There were too many demons living in his head, too many things to distract, too many ways to be hurt.

As much as Shiro needed to know what had happened to him, he wanted to spare the others that, even if it was just in his memories. The others trusted him. They needed him to be strong and there for them. And if they were hurt from his lack of control, it was his fault.

So for all these weeks and months, even when he’d frozen or winced and flinched, Shiro had managed to keep them from seeing why.

This time, he didn’t get a choice.

They blocked the Robeast’s blast easily. But it sparked on Pidge’s shield, not dissipating but sticking and shocking. Immediately, the systems started to register issues, as the energy grew and built, stroking up the lion’s quintessence like kindling.

If it had been controlled and on purpose, it would have been amazing. Instead, it was a dangerous powersurge.

“This is going to fry us,” Hunk reported, voice shaky. “We need to use the energy _now_.”

Without needing the order, Hunk activated is bayard, and they discharged as much as they could on the Robeast, belting it with blasts that sparked stronger than ever, now tinged a sickly brown from the mixture of yellow and purple.

As the Robeast screeched in pain and tumbled back, Shiro took the moment to pull up schematics and status updates, scanning through and letting the black lion feed him the information he needed to understand.

“It wasn’t enough,” Keith reported. “I’m still overloaded.”

Lance snorted. “Yeah, well, we don’t look like we’re going to explode anymore, so there’s that.”

There was no reply from Pidge or Hunk, but an echo of intent, as they spread the power out, trying to make it so no single system felt the strain. As one tried a method, the other would adapt, dropping it or picking it up depending on how well it worked.

But that meant everything in the lions was supercharged, and that included the bond.

So Shiro hadn’t meant to, hadn’t worked to fall deeper, had stayed where he always did in the mental ebb and flow of Voltron.

But then he’d taken a deep breath and been able to smell the extra quintessence, leaving a nearly electric taste in his mouth, along with the metallic, coppery spark of machinery.

It wasn’t even really a flashback, at first. Just a memory, rare as those were. Just a feeling.

But the mental river of Voltron had become a raging flood, and it swept Shiro up from something as small as that, tossing him under. It was easy to forget, while piloting, how small they were. Until now.

And worse, the others drowned with him.

          ( _Confusion_ )

                              What’s going on?

                                                 ( _Flinch_ ) Hurts. Why? 

                                                                                Where are we?

_Screaming. Vicious, happy screams. Cheers. Cheering for him. A dead body. Pain. His arm twisted, bone splitting through the skin._

_Yellow eyes. A smile, with short, small teeth. Predator. Happy, thrilled, excited. No, nono. Happiness was bad, when they were happy he was hurt, he didn’t want this._

_Grabbing his arm, pulling him closer, crooning. No words, speaking but too much pain. Scared. Smile wider. Her mouth forming words, slow and smug. “...Lab.” An order. Lab? No one came back from there, why?_

_Claws on his arm yanked him up, uncaring about the injury. Fingers dug in, still inspecting. Pain pain painpain._

_Taking him._

_No!_

          ( _Fury_ )           ( _Aching_ )         ( _Horror_ )              ( _Wounded_ )

          Shiro!?

_Feel sick._

                                                   Oh no no no.

                                                                                Wake up!

_??_

_Oh no. Sorry. Sorry! Wake up, wake up!_

_Straps on his arm, holding him down-_

_Wake up!_

_The gleam of metal, pressed to his skin splitting it open-_

_WAKE UP!_

          ( _Flinch_ ) Not working. Shiro...

                              Want to help.

                                                  It’s okay. Breathing. Remember?

          Not working either.

                                                                                In. Hold. Out. Hold.

_...Not surprised?_

          ...Just want to help.

                              Robeast. Need to wake up. Now.

                                                                                Power down?

                              Oh! Yes! 

                                                  !!

                              ...No, me.

                                                  Sorry.

          ( _Understanding_ )

                              ( _Forgiveness_ )

                                                                                ( _Amusement_ )

                                                  ( _Relief_ )

_Sorry. I’m so sorry._.

          ( _Love_ )         ( _Love_ )              ( _Love_ )                     ( _Love_ )

Hunk fired.

The remaining extra energy shot out, leaving Shiro suddenly sitting in the cockpit again, nearly alone in his head. Back to standard.

Shiro shivered, and he wasn’t sure the chill was from the sudden loneliness or the remembered cold of blood loss.

Both of which the others were probably still feeling, because of his damn head. Because Shiro couldn’t control his own thoughts.

Without needing or waiting for Shiro, Keith activated his sword, and the others projected their agreement.

Using the cracks and weaknesses made by Hunk’s barrage, Keith stabbed through the Robeast, his vicious anger sparking through them all. It screeched, weak and sickly, then went still and dark.

“Are you all alright?” Allura asked, so sudden it made Shiro jump. She sounded like she’d been asking for a while, but he hadn’t registered it at all.

Lance let out a breathy almost-laugh. “Yeah, just a bit overwhelmed. I didn’t even know you could do that.”

“It was weird from out here,” Matt reported. “All the connections just jolted right of the scales. I’m still totally confused what I’m looking at.”

Even without seeing her, Shiro knew Pidge was smirking. “We’re drift compatible.”

There was a moment of silence, then Matt’s breath caught. “Seriously? Nice!”

Shiro kept his mouth firmly shut on his opinion of it. Instead, he ignored the conversation fully. “We should head back, now.”

There was a beat of silence, probably from his tone. “That would be wise,” Allura finally agreed, though the words came out a touch slowly. “We’ll speak when you get back. Well done, Paladins.”

And when the communication lines shut off, there was silence. Shiro felt the weight of it like sandbags on his shoulders, pushing him down and reminding him. He was making it worse, he knew. His attitude was making them uncomfortable, and he could feel it.

Shiro just hoped they couldn’t feel the self-loathing crawling up his chest in return.

He’d managed for so long, to keep them from seeing even a glimpse of what he’d gone through. And he’d failed badly today, drawn into one of the worst of the fragments he had. Made them all feel the pain and fear and made them experience the horror of Haggar hanging over them.

“Shiro?” Pidge asked, quiet and cautious. Like he was a scared animal.

Wasn’t he?

“Ready?” He asked, ignoring the unspoken question completely.

The connection warped, destabilizing as their confusion grew and Shiro pulled back. Taking advantage, Shiro twisted away, and they were five again.

In the cockpit, alone, Shiro’s hands shook on the controls.

“Ready,” Keith finally replied, low and quiet.

The trip back was done in silence. By unspoken, habitual agreement, they disembarked in the old, shared hanger, because the lions were probably going to need some looking after, to make sure nothing had been damaged by the surge.

When they landed, Shiro didn’t leave. Instead, he closed his eyes and reached out for the black lion. His answer was a rumble, and the phantom sensation of fur under his palm.

_Fix me?_ , he asked.

There was no pause and no surprise, like an organic creature might feel. Or if there was, it was far too fast for Shiro’s brain to detect. Instead he got his answer immediately. No.

The answer resonated in his chest like a drum beat.

Frustration welled in him, and Shiro pushed forward, harder this time. The black lion was in his head, and his memories were all there. They could drag them up, make him remember. They should, because if he kept being surprised, he was going to hurt them again. And it was unacceptable. So they were going to _fix him_. Brute force wasn’t Shiro’s weapon of choice, but he wasn’t afraid to use it now, doing the mental equivalent of running head first into the connection, trying to shove himself deep enough to see everything.

Shiro was smacked back out easily. And then were a memory, not of the Galra but of Earth. Of standing at the foot of a skyscraper and craning his neck back, trying to see the top from the base.

He was small. The black lion was older, larger, more powerful. He wasn’t capable of doing anything the lion didn’t allow him to.

Then the mechanical head ducked, and Shiro was dumped out unceremoniously. With that, the lion turned away and laid down, the wings out and flat, blocking him away. Their connection went dead.

The silent treatment.

It would be funny if Shiro didn’t want to throw up.

While his less than dignified exit had been noticed, no one seemed to want to comment on it. By then, Matt had scrambled in, his eager expression falling as he picked up on the tension in the room. Allura and Coran followed behind him, both bent over one of the control panels and murmuring in tones of great satisfaction. Sam trailed behind them all, calm and sedate with his cane.

Glancing past them at Shiro, Matt arched a curious brow, then looked back down at his sister. “Everything okay? Everybody’s safe?”

“Yeah,” Pidge soothed. “We’re fine.” And it was nearly believable, except in the nervous way she kept glancing back, lips thin. “Just, uh- there was some rabbit chasing.”

It figured on the day that Shiro actually understood the bulk of a reference, it would be for this.

The phrasing wasn’t accusatory, but the responsibility of it still weighed him down. And it wasn’t like anyone was fooled. Matt immediately glanced back at Shiro again, looking him over, all too knowing.

Had they all just been waiting for a fuck up like this? Had Shiro been the only one who thought he could manage?

Distantly, Shiro recognized that at some point, he’d slid past rationality. He was the one acting strangely, interpreting all the signals aimed at him as condemnation. Time and again, they’d proven that they cared for him, that they didn’t see his failures as such.

But it was hard to keep that in mind, when Shiro was so furious at himself.

“You okay, back there?” Matt finally called, probably because Shiro still hadn’t said a word.

When Shiro tried to respond, words didn’t come. It felt like he’d lost the ability to speak anything that wasn’t a stock leadership phrase.

Finally, Shiro shook his head, trying to shake sense into himself, and answering the question without meaning too. Then he started to walk, brushing by everyone to get to the doorway. And once he was through that, Shiro _ran_.

***

It took an hour for Shiro to slow down, by which point he was panting heavily and thoroughly, deeply lost in the bowels of the castle. He had never been this far, and he’d be surprised if anyone had ventured out this way since Allura and Coran had woken up.

From what Shiro could tell, he was in the former residence halls. Identical doorways stretched out the length of the hallway, numbered off in calm Altean script. By now, Shiro at least had enough feel for the language to count, and he ran his fingers over each as he continued to walk. 215, 216, 217...

So many people had lived here. An entire city, essentially, and they had barely scratched the surface. When was there time, between missions, attacks and training? So much of it needed to be run, too, and they just didn’t have a workforce. Just them.

At some point, Shiro should turn around and started back. Finding his way to the main sections was going to take awhile, with his limited grasp of Altean and lack of a map. But going back also meant he was going to have to talk and explain himself, and put back on the face that reassured everyone he was fine, too afraid they’d find him lacking otherwise.

That, and Shiro was embarrassed of his reaction. He was still furious with himself for the slip, for putting them all in that kind of danger and making the others live through something so horrible and terrifying. But freaking out and running away had only made it worse, and Shiro just wasn’t ready to deal with the fallout. And he’d already been gone for a while, so a few minutes more wasn’t going to hurt anything.

247, 248, 249...

It ended at 250, and then turned a sharp corner. But in front of him was a door, and Shiro was in the mood to explore rather than think and confront. So he pushed it open and fumbled for the control panel until he could activate the lights.

They flickered and hummed, unused to having power after so long, but finally came on.

It was a bathroom. And not like the tiny, functional ones in their individual rooms. It was closer to a bathhouse or a hot spring. The floor was smooth and polished, rising to meet the walls in an unbroken curve. In the center was a huge pool, thankfully empty. Shiro didn’t want to think about what stagnant water 10,000 years old would be like.

As he stepped forward, movement made him jump. Whirling, Shiro turned to face the wall, heart pounding and fists out. But it was just his reflection. The walls and floors were like distorted mirrors, reflecting Shiro back on himself and then from each other, until it was an infinite loop of curved Shiros, all panting and tense and prepared to fight.

Shiro dropped his arms and stared, turning in a slow circle to take it all in. Then he sighed.

“What the fuck are you doing, here?” Shiro asked himself, voice quiet but no less venomous. It echoed in the room. “What’s it going to take to make you _work_?”

Maybe nothing. Maybe Shiro was so broken they were best tossing him out and getting someone new.

But that was a cowardly answer. It was giving up, taking the easy way out and avoiding the work. And that wasn’t Shiro’s policy.

“I’ll do better,” he promised his reflections, fists clenched at his side. “It won’t happen again.”

And when the reflections mouthed it back, when the words echoed to his ears again, Shiro didn’t believe them.

Something in Shiro snapped, angry and wounded and not sure why every time he felt like he’d taken a step forward, it was snatched back away. Why wasn’t he better? Why was he still like this?

Bending down, he picked up what looked like a heavy brush and threw it as hard as he could with the metal hand. It bounced off the wall and left a spiderweb crack behind.

The reflections waived and warped, interrupted by the lines, and the farther back in the mirror they went, the more it was the cracks and the less it was Shiro.

“Don’t fuck this up,” he ordered remaining reflections coldly. “Don’t make this worse. That’s your job. That’s your responsibility.”

_Responsibility is a form of control._

The memory of Sam’s words made him wince. Because he had a point. Shiro felt like he had no control, but he was responsible for it. And at some point, those two ideas contradicted each other. Shiro just wasn’t sure where.

Sighing, Shiro stepped over and picked the brush back up, wincing when he saw the way a corner had cracked off. He put it back where he’d picked up and looked around one more time.

Later, he’d have to ask Coran if there was a way to fix this. For Shiro to get this far into the castle, just to break something he could never make up for, was a bit too close to home.

And speaking of home, it was time to head back.

***

Thankfully, Shiro at least had the Altean for ‘lions’ and ‘control room’ down, and so he didn’t have too difficult a time finding his way back. It just a long walk, after an hour of full sprinting.

Shiro also wasn’t sure where to go from here. Where was everyone, when he wasn’t there for hours? In the rec room? The control room?

He was saved from having to figure it out when a voice interrupted him.

“Ah, Takashi. There you are.” Sam looked up from his pad, peering at him from inside the rec room. “I was hoping to catch you when you came back.”

Straightening as though Sam was still his CO, Shiro took a deep breath. “Yes, sir?” Because by now, he expected everyone had heard about what he’d put the others through, and someone needed to dress him down. He’d have picked Sam for it, too. He put things so plainly, and he was used to it from the Kerberos mission.

But all he got was a dry look. “Sir? Oh, please, Takashi. Sit down, before you snap your spine from standing that straight.”

Despite everything, the tone made Shiro’s lips quirk up. So he stepped into the rec room and sat down on the chair across from Sam’s couch. And Shiro tried to relax, he really did, but he couldn’t manage to un-tense his muscles. “You wanted to speak with me?”

Sam snorted, probably at the formal wording, then leaned forward. He watched Shiro, eyes piercing, reminding Shiro that his children had inherited their fearsome intellect from somewhere. “Katie told me what happened. In broad strokes, at least.” Shiro ducked his head and nodded. For a moment, Sam waited, like he was giving Shiro time to respond. But there really wasn’t much to say to that. “It was about time you cracked a little.”

The odd wording made Shiro’s head whip up, and he stared at Sam. “What?”

“You’ve been in desperate need of a good breakdown for a good while now, I think,” Sam pronounced, with the same clinical care he tended to give Shiro exercises after their talks. “Let off some steam, as it were. Who knows when the last time was.”

Shiro winced. “I do, actually.”

Sam’s brows rose, but he didn’t press. “Well, you were due another. It’s been a stressful few weeks, and I think we can both agree you’ve been spiraling somewhat, lately.”

Thinking back over the past few weeks - losing his temper with the other paladins, with the Robeast earlier, with Coran after months - Shiro could only nod. “I suppose so.”

Sighing, Sam patted the spot next to him. Shiro stood and stepped over, sitting down just as stiffly. “You needed a release. And I’m not surprised it came out like this. It was a stressful moment, outside of your control, and you take that as a failure of duty. And I’m willing to bet all the credits onboard the ship that you’ve been beating yourself for some imagined harm to the others, rather than hurt for yourself.”

Dead on target. Shiro shrugged and didn’t meet Sam’s eyes.

A hand rested on his shoulder and squeezed. “Takashi, you treat yourself like another one of the lions. Capable of affection, maybe, but mechanical. Infallible and a source of frustration when you don’t meet those standards. That cannot continue. You’re going to do harm to yourself.” He paused, then sighed. “And I should tell you that they were all far more shaken up with your reactions after than by the ‘drifting’. I had to stop Lance and Hunk from tracking you down. They were afraid you were having problems with your arm, again.”

Shiro’s natural hand curled around the metal bicep. “Oh.” He could see how they’d think that. He’d been jerky and unresponsive. Mechanical. Oops.

“So what I hypothesize,” Sam told him, each word picked carefully. “Is that your fears aren’t based so much on reality. Yes, you don’t want to hurt them, and that’s admirable. But you didn’t, and it was fairly clear it wasn’t your fault. But the emotions you felt they had were the ones you were feeling. Disgust and fear and horror. And it’s easier for you to deal with them showing it than you. And if you can make up for it there, and make them feel better about it, it would make you feel better by proxy. Anything wrong, in this?”

Frowning, Shiro huffed. “Dammit. No. Probably not.” Then he glanced up, inexplicably tired. Or maybe not inexplicable. It’d been a long day. “That’s a bit creepy, actually. That you just... know.”

“Benefits of age and distance, my boy,” Sam replied, the same cheerful tone Matt used when he wanted to defuse a situation. Using the hand he still had on Shiro’s shoulder, he tugged him closer, until Shiro teetered over and rested against his shoulder. “And those benefits are also saying that you need an outlet. Something a bit more direct than projecting your own emotions on the others.”

It was honestly awkward to be slumped over like this, but it was also nice, somehow. So Shiro didn’t fight it, only shifting so he was leaning on his cheek instead of his nose. “What do you recommend, doc?”

“Keeping up the sessions, for one,” Sam decided. “For another, maybe something more physical. Something you can let out some negativity in. I’d recommend drawing but I don’t think you’d do it. More paintball? Did that help?”

Shiro shrugged, a little ashamed at how much it had. “Mostly when I shot the pad out of Pidge’s hand.” His lips curled up. “The reactions were really satisfying.”

Chuckling, Sam nodded. “Well, that, but not where you’re being a mentor. Against me, or Allura, or Matt. Someone you’re not more focused on helping them. The point is to give you time away from that. Doesn’t mean the others can’t be there, but I worry you can’t interact with them without falling into that role anymore.”

Oh. That was... uncomfortable. And not wrong. Even during the quiet, soft moments, Shiro was very aware he was their commanding officer. “I think that’s doable.”

“And when it gets bad, like earlier? Be upset. But be upset for your own sake. Scream or cry or whatever it takes.” Sam glanced down at him, brows up. “I wonder if you’ve had any moment like that at all since getting out.”

Shiro ducked his head. “Once.” He snorted, dry and fond. “I got turned into a 6 year old. Then I couldn’t keep it up.”

That made Sam go so suspiciously quiet that Shiro frowned up at him. “Sam.”

“If it works, it works.”

“ _Sam_.”

Brows up, Sam smiled. “Did you feel like you had to treat them as a mentor then?” Shiro scowled, refusing to answer. “And you got an emotional release? And I’m sure it was fun for them.”

Something about the tone made him suspicious, and Shiro narrowed his eyes. “You just want me as a kid, don’t you?”

Expression cracking into a smile, Sam nodded. “You were so cute. Coran showed me the footage. And it’s been so long since mine were that age. Allow me my misty moments.”

Huffing out a laugh, Shiro settled back down. “Ah. Coran told you. Explains why you jumped to using it for therapy, rather than asking how the hell it happened.”

“I’m long since past asking that,” Sam replied, shrugging. “It was a thought. Mostly an idle one.”

Relaxing with a sigh, Shiro closed his eyes. “I’ll consider it if you don’t let Matt near me while I’m small.”

“I won’t make promises I can’t keep.”

That was fair. Shiro wouldn’t have been able to promise it either. Lips curled up fondly, Shiro found himself unknotting, more completely than he had in weeks.

It was comforting, somehow, that Sam had been thinking of ways to help. And that he was here when Shiro needed the support. Fatherly. He was the only one Shiro felt fully comfortable talking to for advice like this, too aware of Allura’s rank and... well, his relationship with Coran was fond but complicated, even when Shiro tried to ignore it.

But he’d work on it. He had help, now.

And, just for the moment, it was nice to let someone else be the adult.

Shiro just hoped it wouldn’t lead to him being six again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, all these references to earlier fics. Wonder if it means something?
> 
> There's a possibility of a bonus chapter later this week, mostly because it'd be fun. 
> 
> But, more importantly: Next Monday we begin the last part of the Spectrum verse. While it's likely there will be more one-shots, especially if I'm prompted, this is the last of the official, multi-chapter fics. Right now I'm guessing around 10 chapters, but we'll see.
> 
> It's been fun, everyone.

**Author's Note:**

> And remember, you can follow me at bosstoaster.tumblr.com


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